” TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text has been transcribed was inconsistent. “Ugh!” she said. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. I can save you, and will. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. This gloom was impossible. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her.
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